Pirates of the Caribbean: Barbossa's Tale
by pirateoftherings
Summary: I wrote this when I was 15. It's only kept alive for sentimental purposes. Please don't waste your time with this one.
1. The Gold Calls To Us

A/N:  
To my existing readers: Yes, yet another fanfic! I can't help it; I love writing! Anyway, I don't believe I'll be doing anything more having to do with my other three fics, but I've been wanting to do this one for a while.

To new readers: Thanks for reading!

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Ch. 1

_Hector Barbossa sat in a secluded corner of the Faithful Bride, his icy blue eyes scanning the crowd occasionally for a familiar face. This was where Jack Sparrow had said to meet him, but the young captain seemed to make a habit of tardiness, and tonight proved no exception. _

_"Hector!"_

_Barbossa looked up in surprise to see a younger man sit down across from him, though not the younger man he'd been expecting. "Bootstrap," he said simply, nodding slightly to acknowledge the man._

_"You waitin' for Jack, too?" Turner inquired, futilely attempting to catch the attention of one of the barmaids._

_"Aye. Where the blazes is 'e?"_

_"Right 'ere," a third voice said. Jack Sparrow sat down easily in the last empty chair and set three full mugs on the table. "I presume free drinks for all will be proper compensation for my delayed arrival?"_

_Bootstrap eagerly grabbed the nearest mug and raised an eyebrow innocently at Jack. "What delayed arrival?"_

_Jack simply grinned. "Mr. Barbossa?"_

_"Ah…I'd ordinarily decline, but I simply can't find it in me to deny a man 'is redemption," Barbossa replied, taking one for himself. "Consider us even."_

_"Excellent," Jack said, taking the remaining mug. "Now, let's get on to business, shall we?"_

_Barbossa nodded. "Yes, let's. Firstly, I'd like to know the nature of this venture 'fore I sign on. Also, perhaps ye can enumerate upon risks, time required, remuneration, and so forth."_

_Jack frowned in confusion. "Excuse me?"_

_"Am I going to come out of this alive, and what's in it for me?" Barbossa rephrased, trying to conceal his irritation._

_"Ah, well, the state in which you leave this journey would depend on you skill, now wouldn't it?" Jack asked mildly. "As for pay, everything's in equal share. Do we have an accord?"_

_Barbossa grinned and shook the young captain's hand. "Agreed."_

_"Excellent. Then everything's in order. We set sail in a week," Jack said. Raising his mug, he added, "Here's to a successful journey. May we all profit largely from it." Touching his mug to the other two men's and taking a drink, Barbossa laughed quietly to himself._ Some of us more than others…

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Barbossa sat up with a start, nearly falling out of his bed. Shaking off the dream, he looked around the cabin…_His_ cabin, he reminded himself. He took comfort in knowing that. Sighing, he pulled on his coat and checked his weapons. Tonight they were going on another raid. A raid just like all the ones before, and just like all the ones they would be performing for all of eternity until they were free of the curse.

He strode out on deck and watched his crew prepare. An unfelt wind flapped in the shredded sails and blew Barbossa's long hair into his face. The wind seemed to carry a presence, like a distant voice tugging at his mind, calling him to it. Looking at his crew, he knew they'd felt it too.

"Captain?" Bo'sun said uncertainly.

"The gold…" Barbossa whispered. "Gents, we have a change of plans! Set course for Port Royal!" It was finally in their grasp…


	2. A New Guest

Ch. 2

Barbossa waited wordlessly as the _Black Pearl_ crept through the fog toward the small port. Motioning for the monkey to climb onto his shoulder, he absently stroked its fur to calm his agitated nerves. They were so close…He felt as if he only had to reach out and reclaim the gold, but it would do no good to launch the attack just yet. It was imperative that the strike seem like an ordinary raid, causing chaos to cover their search for the gold. He knew his men stood at their posts, just as anxious as he, waiting for him to give the order to fire the cannons.

" 'scuse us, Cap'n," Pintel said nervously, approaching Barbossa with Ragetti close behind him. "We couldn't 'elp but notice-"

"Did I give ye permission t' speak?" Barbossa growled, pinning the man down with a fierce glare. "Hmm?"

"No, sir, but-"

"Then why are you? Get back to yer post!"

"That's just it, Cap'n," Ragetti chimed in. "We doesn't got a post t'go to. You didn't give us none."

Barbossa sighed and contemplated his options. Pintel was capable enough, but wherever he went, Ragetti was sure to follow, and Barbossa wanted that numbskull as far away from him as possible. "Go ashore with the land crew," he finally said. "Take a group of men and raid the governor's mansion for valuables. Bring back whatever swag ye can carry." There. Even _they_ couldn't mess up that order.

Finally they were in position, and Barbossa gave the signal to open fire on the port. Slowly at first, and then more rapidly, buildings leapt up in flames and the screams of terrified townsfolk filled the air. The pirates lowered the rowboats and piled in. Torches and weapons in hand, they rowed toward the shore and began wreaking havoc on the small port. Barbossa himself, though, stayed onboard with the gun crew. Raids bored him now, and he preferred to stay with his ship and help himself to the spoils later.

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About half an hour into the raid, Barbossa saw one of the boats coming back early. Upon closer inspection, he saw that they had a young woman with them. _What don't these imbeciles understand about 'no captives'?…_ He started to go down and investigate, but Bo'sun intercepted the group. Barbossa overheard his name and something about parley, but waited to approach the small group. The young woman -Barbossa guessed she couldn't be more than eighteen- tried to say something, only to be struck across the face by Bo'sun. _That's enough…_

"You will speak when spoken to!" the large man growled.

Barbossa caught his arm firmly and glared at him. "And ye will not be layin' a hand on those under the protection of parley," he warned in an even tone that belied the malice in his eyes.

"Aye, sir," Bo'sun said, jerking his arm out of Barbossa's grasp and walking away.

"My apologies, Miss," Barbossa said smoothly.

The young woman looked him in the eyes. "Captain Barbossa, I am here to negotiate the cessation of hostilities against Port Royal."

Barbossa pretended not to understand. "There're a lot o' long words in there, Miss; we're naught but humble pirates. What is it that you want?" He was capable of fancy speech and high-society manners when they were called for, but given his particulars, he preferred straightforward negotiations…at least from his opponent.

"I want you to leave and never come back," she said firmly. He could see the fear in her eyes, but she did a wonderful job of keeping it from manifesting in her voice.

"I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request," he replied. "…Means 'no'."

"Very well," she said, walking purposefully to the side of the ship and dangling a gold medallion over the rail. "I'll drop it!" she threatened.

_The gold…_Barbossa forced a nonchalant smirk. "Me holds are burstin' with swag. That bit o' shine matters to us?…Why?"

"It's what you've been searching for," she replied. "I recognized this ship; I saw it eight years ago on the crossing from England!"

"Did ye, now?" he asked, trying to conceal his interest. His mind pored over what little Bootstrap had told him. To be honest, he'd never taken much interest in the man's background. However, he was almost certain Turner had at some point mentioned a child back in England…

The girl looked around at them. "Fine. Well, I suppose if it is worthless then there's no point in me keeping it." She let a bit of the chain slip through her fingers, causing Barbossa and his men to lunge forward involuntarily. Smiling knowingly, she looked back at Barbossa.

Laughing slightly, he forced another grin. _Only one way to find out._ "Ye have a name, Missy?" he asked.

"Elizabeth…Turner," she replied, declining her head slightly. "I'm a maid in the governor's household."

"Miss _Turner_," Barbossa repeated to the crew. He'd suspected as much. "And how does a maid come to own a trinket, such as that? Family heirloom, perhaps?"

"I didn't steal it, if that's what you mean."

Barbossa pretended to contemplate. "Very well, you hand it over, and we'll put your town to our rudder and ne'er return." Hesitantly, Elizabeth handed him the coin. Barbossa felt a wave of relief as he passed it to the monkey, who climbed up higher into the ropes with it.

"Our bargain?" she asked, drawing Barbossa out of his thoughts. He nodded to Bo'sun and walked off. As Bo'sun began shouting orders to the crew, the girl ran after Barbossa. "Wait!" she cried. "You have to take me to shore! According to the Code of the Order of the Brethren-"

"First," Barbossa interrupted, turning around fiercely, "your return to shore was not part of our negotiations nor our agreement so I _must_ do nothing. And secondly, you must be a pirate for the pirate's code to apply, and you're not. And thirdly, the code is more what you'd call 'guidelines' than actual rules…Welcome aboard the _Black Pearl _, Miss Turner!"

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A/N: Yeah...fairly short...I think I'm having way too much fun with this villain PoV thing...anyone else find that concerning? Anyway, please review! 


	3. We Are Cursed Men, Miss Turner

Ch. 3

Barbossa paced around his cabin restlessly. Now that the gold had been regained, he was anxious to get it over with…They couldn't reach Isla de Muerta soon enough for him. Immortal or no, he was positive this wait was going to be the death of him. Sighing, he pulled the Aztec coin out of his pocket and examined it. _How strange that such a little thing could be the source of our torment for near ten years…_ he mused, rubbing over the coin's smooth surface with his thumb. _But it will all be over soon…_

Slipping the gold back into his pocket, Barbossa continued to walk around. He longed for conversation beyond the intellect of his crew. "Bo'sun!" he called out sharply, seeing the tall man passing in the hallway.

Bo'sun turned to face him. "Aye, sir?"

"I desire company. Send someone to inquire as to our esteemed guest's well-being, and inform her that she will be dinin' with me tonight," Barbossa said. Performing a quick search of his cabin, he pulled out a dress that seemed Miss Turner's size and tossed it to the man. "And Bo'sun, give 'er this."

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Barbossa went into the room adjacent to his sleeping quarters and watched as the men carried in a lavish feast. Just the sight of the food reminded him of how hungry he was and made him angry that there was nothing he could do about it. A few minutes after the men had left, Miss Turner entered hesitantly, wearing the dress Barbossa had provided. "Maid or not, it suits you,' he commented, looking her up and down.

She shot him a look. "May I inquire as to whether it did its previous owner?"

"Ooh, now, none of that," he scolded teasingly. Pulling out a chair, he indicated for her to be seated. "Please." Reluctantly, she sat down. Leaning close to her ear, he muttered, "Dig in."

Elizabeth cut off a small bite of meat and placed it daintily in her mouth. As she swallowed, Barbossa watched in amazement. Neither he nor his crew had eaten in anything for ten years, but this girl treated it like an everyday occurrence. _Because to her, it is_, he reminded himself. Sometimes, in his separation from the mortal life, he forgot what luxuries mortals -himself included at one time- took for granted. "There's no need to stand on occasion nor call to impress anyone," he said casually. "You must be hungry." _As if you could even begin to fathom true hunger…_ Elizabeth looked up at him. After a moment's hesitation, she set down her utensils and began eating ravenously off of the bone. Noticing a plate of bread, she grabbed a small loaf and tore a bite off. "Try the wine," he offered, handing her a large goblet. He again watched in fascination as she took a big gulp. "…And the apples, one of those next?"

She suddenly stopped eating and looked suspiciously at the apple in his hand. "It's poisoned," she said fearfully.

Barbossa chuckled. "There'd be no sense to be killin' ye, Miss Turner."

"Then release me! You have your trinket; I'm of no further value to you."

Barbossa took out the medallion and held it up. "You don't know what this is, do ye?" he asked.

"It's a pirate medallion," the girl replied off-handedly.

"This is Aztec Gold," Barbossa corrected. "One of eight hundred eighty-two identical pieces they delivered in a stone chest to Cortez himself. Blood money paid to stem the slaughter he wreaked upon them with his armies…But the greed of Cortez was insatiable, and so the heathen gods placed upon the gold…a terrible curse. Any mortal that removes but a single piece from that stone chest shall be punished for eternity."

Elizabeth looked doubtful. "I hardly believe in ghost stories any more, Captain Barbossa."

"Aye," he said, standing up and beginning to walk around. "That's exactly what I thought when we were first told the tale. Buried on an island of the dead what cannot be found, except for those who know where it is…Find it, we did. There be the chest; inside be the gold…and we took 'em all. Spent them and traded them and frittered them away on drink, and food, and pleasurable company… But the more we gave them away, the more we came to realize: Drink would not satisfy…food turned to ash in our mouths…and all the pleasurable company in the world could not slake our lust…We are cursed men, Miss Turner. Compelled by greed, we were, but now…we are _consumed_ by it." The monkey began screeching and jumping up and down on its perch. Going over to calm the jittery creature, Barbossa continued, "There is one way we can end our curse…All the scattered pieces of Aztec gold must be restored, and the blood repaid. Thanks to ye, we have the final piece."

"…And the blood to be repaid?" Elizabeth asked nervously.

Barbossa laughed. "That's why there'd be no sense to be killin' ye…yet," he said, holding out the apple in his hand. "…Apple?"

Suddenly, she knocked the fruit from his hand and jumped up, brandishing a knife from the table. They played a bit of cat-and-mouse before Barbossa caught her.

"No!" Elizabeth screamed, whirling around and plunging the knife deep into where his heart should have been.

Looking down, Barbossa pulled the knife out and held it up, allowing the blood to drip on the floor. "I'm curious," he sneered. "After killin' me, what is it yer plannin' on doin' next?" Terrified, the young woman backed up slowly until she was out on deck with his skeletal crew. They quickly forced her into their midst, using various tactics to horrify their new arrival. _Let 'em have their fun_, Barbossa thought to himself. _It's rare enough they get a chance_. Finally, she came fleeing back toward him and hid under the stairs, only to be scared out by the monkey's screeches.

"Look!" Barbossa said, grabbing her and forcing her to behold the crew. "The moonlight shows us for what we really are. We are not among the livin' and so we cannot die, but neither are we dead." He whirled her around to face him. "Too long, I've been parched of thirst, and unable to quench it. Too long, I've been starvin' to death, and haven't died. I feel nothin'…Not the wind on my face, nor the spray of the sea…nor the warmth of a woman's flesh," he said, reaching out a hand toward her and walking forward until the moonlight fell on him completely. "Ye best start believin' in ghost stories, Miss Turner…You're in one!" Yanking the cork off of a bottle with his teeth, Barbossa poured the wine into his mouth and let it run down his ribs. Too terrified to even scream, Elizabeth fled past him and into the cabin. Barbossa slammed the doors behind her and laughed loudly, joined by the crew. "What are ye lookin' at?" he snarled. "Back to work!"

Barbossa watched as his men scrambled to get back to their jobs. Though they had all avoided the moonlight when they first learned of the curse, they had long since grown accustomed to it. _What a wretched lot we are to behold_…he thought ruefully. _But it will all soon be over._

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A/N: Okay, I realize I've gotten these three chapters up unnaturally fast, but unfortunately, school gets back tomorrow and I won't have quite so much time. It still won't be really long between chapters, but don't expect these two-day waits that we had for the first few. Please review! 


	4. Memories and Dreams

Ch. 4

Barbossa stood out on deck, staring at the heavy wooden doors. Elizabeth had been hiding in there for over a day, and he had tolerated to this point, but enough was enough. _This is ridiculous_, he thought to himself. _You can kill without thought, but you can't evict a whiny girl from your cabin? Hardly a man who deserves to be feared by all who meet him._ Fueled by that thought, he opened the doors quickly and strode down the hall to where his sleeping quarters were. He placed his hand on the doorknob, only to find it locked. He went over and tried the door to the other room. Locked. No matter; he had a key in his desk…which was in the cabin. _Utterly ridiculous_. Sighing, he knocked on the door. "Miss Turner…Miss Turner!" he repeated when no answer came. Still nothing.

"Miss Turner, I know yer in there," he said impatiently. "Open up. There's no reason to be afraid. You're worthless t'me dead." He heard someone stir, but the door remained locked. "You have exactly three seconds to open this door, Miss Turner, unless you fancy spending tonight with the crew. One…two…" Hearing something in the doorknob click, Barbossa pushed the door open roughly and glared at the young woman. She was sitting on a bench and staring out the window with tear-stained eyes. "Get out," he muttered, pulling her away from the window. "I didn't allot ye the finest guest cabin, just for ye to steal mine. Go on. If ye need anythin', you can ask the crew. They're under strict orders not to touch ye." Elizabeth gave him a look of pure loathing before wordlessly pushing past him and striding out of the cabin.

Sighing again, Barbossa closed the cabin doors and sat down wearily on the edge of his bed. "Women…" he muttered, lying down and attempting to sleep.

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_"'Lot's o' adventure', the cap'n says," Pintel grumbled, leaning back in his hammock. "'Wealth beyond imagination', he says…Two days out t' sea, an' what've we got to show for it? Nothin', that's what. I doubt 'e even knows where we're goin'."_

_Bootstrap Bill shrugged and took a long draw out of his pipe. "I wouldn't be so quick to doubt our captain, Pintel, if were you. I've known Jack far longer than any of ye, and he's one of the best cartographers 'round."_

_"But therein lies the problem," Barbossa interrupted. The men stiffened slightly as they noticed the first mate's presence, but he just grinned easily and continued. "Jack's a cartographer, not a pirate. Takes a lot more'n a ship and some trinkets to hide that."_

_"That would be _Cap'n Sparrow_ to you, Barbossa," Bootstrap said sternly. _

_Barbossa dismissed the correction with a wave of his hand. "Same difference. The fact o' the matter is, he's not a real pirate. He just doesn't have it in 'im."_

_"He's more experienced than you think," Bootstrap argued. "Been a sailor since 'e was a lad, an' a captain for just about as long. I've sailed under 'im before, an' there's no one I'd trust with my life more. Just give him time. We'll all be rich men soon enough, and then you'll thank 'im."_

_"Perhaps, Bill, perhaps," Barbossa conceded. "But what if I were to tell ye that Jack -I mean _Cap'n Sparrow_- doesn't plan on sharin'?" Suspicious murmurs went through the room, and all eyes were glued on Barbossa._

_"What d'ye mean?" Pintel asked. "Accordin' to the Code, everythin's in equal share. 'e can't-"_

_"Can't he, Mr. Pintel?" Barbossa replied. "After all, he is Captain. What's to stop 'im from takin' off with our treasure soon as we get back to Tortuga? All I know is, were I the cap'n, I'd see to it that-"_

_"Impossible," Bootstrap interrupted. "Jack's no saint, but he's honest enough when it comes down to it. I'd watch myself, Barbossa, if I were you. You're beginnin' to sound a bit mutinous yeself."_

_Barbossa lowered his voice. "And what if I am, Bootstrap? Hmm? Can I help it if I'm forced to work under an incompetent captain? We're better than this! All of us! I've been a pirate far longer than Mr. Sparrow, and I'm not unaccustomed to leadership positions."_

_Bootstrap's eyes widened with realization. "You mean to mutiny against Jack," he said in a low voice. "All of you."_

_"Relax, Bill, we'll do him no real harm," Barbossa assured him. "Just a brief stay down in the brig while we take what's rightfully ours. When we get back to Tortuga, he's free to do as he wishes. No harm done."_

_"No," Bootstrap said, standing up to leave. "I won't stand for it."_

_Barbossa strode after the man and grabbed him by the arm. "You're the one who should be watchin' yeself, Turner," he whispered malevolently. "Bein' a 'good man' won't get ye far in the real world. You have to take what ye can, when ye can."_

_Bootstrap shook his head stubbornly. "I won't go along with this, Barbossa. We'll see what Jack has to say about your plans." Frowning, he started to walk away again._

_"Quite a nice lil' family ye got back in England, aye Bill?" Barbossa called after him. "Beautiful wife…an' a child too, if memory serves me. T'would be a shame if something was to happen that'd leave them without a source o' income…"_

_Bootstrap stopped in his tracks. "Leave my family out of this, Barbossa," he warned, clenching his fists._

_"Or maybe I could just kill 'em myself," Barbossa continued. "T'would be far more merciful, actually, than lettin' 'em starve to death…What are they worth, Bootstrap? You best decide now. Betray an old friend, or sentence yer wife an' child to almost certain death. It's your choice…Is doing the 'right thing' worth your family's life?" When Bootstrap didn't answer, Barbossa just smiled triumphantly. "You do what you deem is best, Bill. But if I were you, I'd take a long, hard look at the consequences first."_

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_"Where is 'e?" one of the men asked impatiently, looking around the deck._

_"Patience, Mr. Ragetti, patience," Barbossa assured him. "Bootstrap's doin' his job as we speak." At least, he was supposed to be… As if in response to his thoughts, Bootstrap appeared on deck, wearing an uneasy expression on his face. "…Well?" Barbossa asked when the man didn't speak._

_"He's coming," Bootstrap muttered reluctantly. "I have yer word that no harm'll come his way?"_

_"I swear to ye upon pain of death, I'll not so much as lift a finger against Jack Sparrow," Barbossa replied. "This is just a little transfer of power in the best interest of everyone." Bootstrap started to say something, but was interrupted by Jack coming on deck._

_Taking in the situation with one swift glance, the young captain frowned. "What's the meaning of this, Mr. Barbossa?" he asked, though his expression showed that he understood all too well what was happening._

_Barbossa grinned maliciously. "Bill, tell 'im why we're here."_

_"You tell him," Bootstrap said stubbornly. "This is your little insurrection, after all. I've done my part."_

_In response, Barbossa simply mouthed the word 'family' and placed a hand casually on his pistol. _

_A look of loathing passed over Bootstrap's face before he gathered himself and cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well…uh, Jack…it's…come to our attention that perhaps…yer not exactly fit to lead this crew…" he said, picking his words carefully. "And…in the best interest of everyone…we've determined it best to detain you for the remainder of the voyage."_

_"Bind him," Barbossa ordered, handing Bootstrap a length of rope. "Now," he added forcefully when the man didn't move. _

_Reluctantly, Bill went over and tied the rope tightly around Jack's wrists. "I'm so sorry, Jack," he whispered, avoiding his friend's gaze._

_"Thank ye, Bootstrap," Barbossa said dryly. He snapped his fingers, and two men extended the plank while two others grabbed Bootstrap's arms to hold him back. The rest of the crew advanced forward with their weapons drawn, forcing Jack toward the narrow plank._

_Jack licked his lips nervously and looked over the side of the ship. With no pleading in his voice, he addressed what he had thought to be his loyal crew. "So this is what it comes to, is it?" he asked. "This is all it takes to persuade all of ye. One man…So much for my loyal mates, aye?"_

_"Very touching," Barbossa sneered. "Now off ye go."_

_"This is low, Barbossa," Jack said fiercely. "Even for a pirate. If you insist upon commandeering your own ship, at least make it an honest steal."_

_"Ah, to be so naïve," Barbossa said, putting an arm around Jack's shoulder. "Jack…did ye honestly think a humble cartographer from England could become a pirate captain just because he struck lucky and found a mythical map? The _Pearl_'s a fine ship, Jack; too fine for you. However, I'd hate to leave ye empty-handed, so I'll make ye a little deal. See that island o'er yonder?" he asked, directing the young man's attention to a spit of land in the distance. "All yours, to do with as you please. I hope you find it accommodatin', 'cause you'll never set foot off it again." _

_"Hector, this is wrong," Bootstrap interrupted, struggling against the two men that restrained him. "You swore to me Jack wouldn't be killed!"_

_"And what, you want to suffer the same fate? Hmm?" The man fell silent and cast his gaze down at the deck. Too loyal, that one… "I thought not…However, I'm a man of my word, and so I'm afraid I won't be killin' ye myself. How and when you die, Jack Sparrow, will be entirely up to you," Barbossa said, forcing him out onto the plank and tossing him a pistol with a single shot in it. "You've got but one shot, though, so use it wisely." _

_The young captain gazed steadily at him, surprising Barbossa with how much hatred his dark eyes contained. "If it's the last thing I do, Barbossa, I will make you pay," he swore fiercely._

_Barbossa grinned wickedly. "Then for yer sake, I hope you're a good swimmer." With that, he stomped on the plank, sending Jack Sparrow to his certain death._

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"Cap'n," Bo'sun said, causing Barbossa to wake with a start.

"Do ye not understand the concept of knockin', Bo'sun?" Barbossa muttered. "What is it?"

"Sir, we're nearin' Isla de Muerta."

"Very good, Bo'sun," Barbossa said in annoyance, getting up and beginning to stride around the room. "Anythin' else?"

"No, sir."

"Bo'sun, do you recall what we've done every single time we've come to Isla de Muerta?" he asked.

"Aye, sir."

"An' do ye need instruction as to how to proceed?"

"No, sir."

"Then why the blazes did ye disturb me?" Barbossa shouted suddenly. "You know what to do; now do it!"

"Aye, sir," Bo'sun said, bowing his head shortly and striding out.

Rubbing his forehead wearily, Barbossa lay back down, but every attempt to sleep was thwarted by dreams and memories. Finally he gave up, went into the other room, and began pacing. Why were these memories choosing to resurface now? He'd suppressed them for near ten years now, but they were suddenly showing up again. Why? In a sudden fit of rage, he flung the remnants of the night-before-last's dinner off of the table. He felt no remorse over what he'd done to Jack Sparrow; in fact, he was rather proud of it. A man that stupid had no right to be captain of his own ship. But still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something…

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A/N: Okay, so this chapter was a bit longer...sorry about the shortness of the first three; it's hard dividing one continuous movie into chapters, and that was just the way everything fit in. Hopefully most of the chapters from here on will be longer and a bit more interesting. Please review! 


	5. The Wrong Person

**A/N**: So sorry about the wait on this one! I've had this chapter ready to publish for almost a week now, but my stupid internet hasn't been working since last Friday. Not that anyone probably noticed the wait, considering that _nobody is reviewing!_You guys weren't serious about never ever reviewing again just because of the endingof my last fanfic, were you? I'll be really sad if you were...Anyway, another longer chapter, another flashback, etc.

**Ani Sparrow**: Thanks! The mutiny took me the longest for just that reason; I was trying to make it seem believable. I'm glad at least _someone_ reviews!

**lily**: Yeah, that was actually the motivation for writing this fanfic. I was browsing through all the POTC fanfics on this site (and there are tons), and I realized that hardly anyone did Barbossa's view! He happens to be one of my favorite characters (not for his personality or morals, of course, but for the overall quality of the character), and I was going insane without anything to write,so I decided to give it a shot. Glad you like it!

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Ch. 5

_"But it's only a day's journey from here!" Bootstrap protested. "I have-" _

_"No," Barbossa interrupted shortly. "We have no business in Tortuga, Bootstrap. We'll go where is most convenient, and that'll be the end of it. Nothing to discuss. I signed ye on as first mate because you know this ship better'n any of us, not because I want t' hear yer opinion on everything. I'm the cap'n, and what I say goes."_

_Bootstrap looked out the window at the bleak fog. "Jack always gave his crew a fair vote," he muttered dryly._

_"Jack Sparrow is dead, Turner!" Barbossa said harshly. "And what's more, you helped kill 'im. It's time ye stopped livin' in the past. Everyone agreed that I should take over, and take over I did. If that means the crew has to adjust to a new style of leadership, so be it. I've already accomplished far more than Sparrow ever did; we found Isla de Muerta, didn't we? We got the treasure, didn't we?"_

_"An' wasted almost all of it in one town," Bootstrap added under his breath._

_Barbossa thought about getting angry, but changed his mind and just smirked. "To each his own," he said simply. Putting an arm around Bootstrap's shoulders, he led the man to the doorway. "See this, Bootstrap?" he asked, gesturing to indicate the working men. "Respect, responsibility, and just a little bit of fear do wonders for a crew's productivity. And now the fog's finally startin' to lift, so we'll make even better time. This is how a ship should be run." _

_Even as he spoke, the fog began to dissipate. Shouts of surprise and panic filled the air as the moonlight turned the crew to ghastly skeletons. Barbossa could only watch, speechless with horror. Whirling around suddenly, he turned on Bootstrap, who seemed to be entertaining himself with waving his hand in and out of the moonlight. "You!"_

_Bootstrap pulled his hand back in. "Yeah?" he replied casually._

_"What's happening? For some reason, Sparrow trusted you. What did he tell you?"_

_"What?" Bootstrap asked, raising his eyebrows in mock-surprise. "Jack didn't tell ye about the curse?"_

_"Of course he did, you idiot!" Barbossa said impatiently._

_"And you didn't listen because…?"_

_"Because I never paid attention to his insane ramblings! Nobody with any sense would!"_

_Bootstrap then had the audacity to smirk. "Ah, well, I'm glad someone as practical as you is the brains of this operation, then."_

_Furious, Barbossa struck the man across the face. "Yours is not the place to question my judgment, Turner," he growled. "Don't make me regret my decision to spare ye from Sparrow's fate."_

_A wave of sadness passed briefly over Bootstrap's face. "You don't know many times I've already wished that you hadn't…_This_," he said, indicating the skeletal crew, "is what you get for betraying Jack." _

_"And I suppose yer findin' it rather amusin', hmm?"_

_"On the contrary," Bootstrap replied. He stepped out into the moonlight, revealing himself to be just as skeletal as they. "I took my share of the gold; I'm cursed, same as you. We're all in the same boat, so to speak. And after what we did to Jack, we deserve to be cursed…and _remain_ cursed."_

_"Well, as touching as your new-found sense of virtue is, Bootstrap, that's hardly the issue here," Barbossa snarled, his usually even voice beginning to develop an dangerous edge. "Now tell us how to reverse it."_

_Bootstrap stepped back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why? Are ye not man enough to take your punishment?"_

_"How dare you?" Barbossa said furiously. "You tell me, or I'll… I'll kill ye, here an' now. I swear I will!"_

_"Good luck," Bootstrap scoffed. Suddenly, he pulled out his knife and plunged it deep into his own chest. The crew watched in morbid fascination as he drew it out again without even flinching. "There's more to this curse than you could ever fathom, Barbossa. And now we get to live -if you can call it that- with the consequences…forever."_

----------

The fog condensed in heavy droplets on Barbossa's skin as they followed the jagged shoreline of Isla de Muerta. The island's many cliffs and peaks loomed ominously overhead, daring them to go further. "Get the girl," he ordered Pintel. _It's almost over…_ After several minutes, Elizabeth was brought on deck by a group of men. Taking the medallion out of his pocket, Barbossa stepped forward and delicately clasped it around the girl's neck. He motioned for the heavily-laden boats to be lowered and helped Elizabeth climb down into one. "Time to go, Miss Turner."

They slowly rowed into the shallow bay that led to the cave. Standing at the bow of the lead boat, Barbossa peered into the darkness. They were so close…As soon as they reached land, the men swarmed from the boats, dumping out their recent gains to add to the already extensive treasure. Determinedly, Barbossa pressed forward with some of the men close behind. Finally, they came to the large cave where the gold was located.

Barbossa climbed up onto the mound and watched his crew deposit the plunder. Motioning for the girl to be brought up, he addressed the crew. "Gentlemen, the time has come!…Our salvation is nigh!…Our torment is near an end!…Ten years, we've been tested and tried, and each man jack o' you here has proved his mettle a hundred times over, and a hundred times again!" The crew let out a particularly loud cheer.

"Suffered, I have!" Ragetti cried out.

Barbossa paused in satisfaction. He hadn't gotten this far for nothing; he knew how to use words to manipulate emotions. "Punished, we were, the lot of us! Disproportionate to our crime! Here it is," he said, kicking off the lid and running his fingers over the gold inside. "The cursed treasure of Cortez himself. Every last piece that went astray, we have returned…save for this! Eight hundred and eighty-one we found, but despaired of e'er finding the last. Long and hard we searched, but to no avail. Now at last, the gods shall be appeased!" He paused for effect. "…And who among us has paid the blood sacrifice owed to the heathen gods?" The crew gave an affirming shout. "And whose blood must yet be paid?"

"Hers!" they all cried.

Barbossa grinned. "Y'know the first thing I'm gonna do when the curse is lifted?…Eat a whole bushel of apples," he said. As he forced the girl to lean over the chest, the crew began chanting loudly. "Begun by blood…by blood undone." He yanked the medallion off of her neck and placed it in her hand. Slicing her palm with the knife, he made sure the blood got on it.

"That's it?" she asked in surprise.

"Waste not." Giving Elizabeth's clenched hand one last hard squeeze, he forced her to drop the medallion into the chest. _It's done…_Barbossa stood there with his eyes closed, waiting in anticipation to feel something change. After several moments, he opened his eyes, surprised to find that he felt the same.

"Did it work?" Koehler asked hesitantly, giving voice to the question that was on everyone's minds.

Ragetti shrugged. "I don't feel no different."

"How do we tell?" Pintel asked. Rolling his eyes, Barbossa pulled out his pistol and shot the man in the chest.

"You're not dead!" Koehler said in surprise.

"No!" Pintel replied, apparently relieved until realization struck him. "…He shot me!"

"It didn't work…"

"The curse is still upon us!" Twigg shouted.

Barbossa just stared at the blade in disbelief. _It should have worked! _"You! Maid!" he shouted, turning on the young woman and shaking her by the shoulders. "Your father, what was his name? Was yer father William Turner?"

"No," she replied, her voice dripping with contempt.

"Then where is his child?" Barbossa asked in frustration, picking up the medallion and shaking it in her face. It was all he could do to keep from screaming, but he managed to keep his anger under control- barely. "The child who sailed from England eight years ago? The child in whose veins flows the blood of William Turner? Where?" When she refused to answer, he delivered a blow across her face that sent her tumbling down the steep slope.

"You two!" Bo'sun shouted, turning on Pintel and Ragetti. "You brought us the wrong person!"

"No!" Pintel insisted. "She had the medallion! She's the proper age!"

"She said 'er name was Turner. You heard 'er," Ragetti pointed out. "…I think she lied to us!"

"…You brought us here for nothing!" Twigg accused suddenly.

"I won't take questionin' nor second guesses, not from the likes of you, Master Twigg."

"Who's to blame, then?" Koehler growled. "Every decision you've made has led us from bad to worse."

"It was you who sent Bootstrap to the depths!" Mallot chimed in.

Bo'sun whipped out his sword. "And it was _you_ who brought us here in the first place!"

Barbossa frowned and drew his own sword. Best to end this quickly, or he'd have a full-scale mutiny on his hands. "If any coward here dares challenge me, let him speak!" he shouted, pointing his sword threateningly at Bo'sun. "Hmm?"

"I say we cut her throat and spill all her blood, just in case!" Koehler said angrily, earning a shout from the crew.

It was then that Barbossa noticed the monkey screeching and pointing towards a narrow corridor. Turning to the space where the girl had fallen, he found it empty, and the medallion gone. _This isn't happening!_ "The medallion!" he cried. "She's taken it! Get after her, you feckless pack of ingrates!"

The men rushed to the boats, only to be delayed. "Where're the oars?" he heard someone cry.

"The oars have gone missin'!" Bo'sun shouted to the crew. "Find them!"

As everyone scurried to locate the missing oars, Barbossa strode back over to the chest. Picking up the knife, he examined it again. What went wrong? For once, he had to agree with Pintel. By all accounts, the girl _should_ have been the right one! Now, they were right back where they had started. Frustrated, he flung the knife back into the chest.

"Cap'n," Koehler said suddenly, interrupting Barbossa's brooding.

"What?" he snapped.

Twigg fidgeted nervously. "Sir, we, uh…we found someone that might be o' interest to ye."

"And who would that be?"

Looking hesitantly at the already furious captain, Twigg mouthed a name.

"What? How can- Impossible!" Barbossa shouted, his face contorted with rage. "He's dead! No one's seen him for ten years!" He glared at the two men, both of whom averted their eyes nervously. "Have they, Twigg?"

Koehler cleared his throat. "The other day…in Port Royal, sir…" he muttered. "We…saw Sparrow in the jail, and…"

"What? Why didn't ye inform me?"

"We didn't think it necessary," Twigg stammered. " 'e was locked behind bars and sentenced to 'ang. We didn't figure 'e would be any trouble for us."

"Imbeciles!" Barbossa cried, roughly pushing past them. "I swear, the day this curse is lifted is the day I kill every last one of ye! Where is 'e?"

----------

Barbossa pushed angrily through the crowd of men. There, leaning casually against an oar, was none other than Jack Sparrow. "How the blazes did you get off that island?" he finally asked.

"When you marooned me on that God-forsaken spit of land, you forgot one very important thing, mate," Jack said smugly. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!"

"Ah, well, I won't be makin' that mistake again," Barbossa replied evenly, careful not to reveal his irritation. "Gents, you all remember Captain Jack Sparrow." The men laughed in response. "Kill 'im."

"The girl's blood didn't work, did it?" Jack interrupted before they could fire.

Barbossa winced, but replaced it with an indifferent sneer before he turned to face Jack. "Hold yer fire!" he ordered reluctantly. _The idiot may yet be of some use._ "You know whose blood we need?"

Jack smiled in satisfaction. "I know whose blood ye need."

Sighing, Barbossa contemplated his options. "Locate the oars and make ready the boats!" he finally shouted to the crew. Turning to Jack, he added, "We will discuss this matter more once we are aboard _my _ship. If ye prove trustworthy, I _may_ not kill ye. Deal?"

Jack stiffened slightly at the first statement, but he just smiled and shook Barbossa's hand. "Deal."

* * *

A/N: REVIEW!...oh, and I may be doing some minor renovations to my other fanfics over the next week (just cleaning up some typos, awkward wording, continuity, and such...I wrote my first fanfic over a year ago, and personally I feel I can do better now as far as making it all flow together), so those of you who have me on Author Alert, don't be surprised if one day you have 50 million emails saying that I posted a new chapter/story. Other than that...review! 


	6. Negotiations

**A/N**: Okay, I'm beginning to suspect a computer conspiracy against my fanfics. Just like last chapter, I had everything set up and ready to post, when the internet dies...again. One week and $400 later, it should be permenantly fixed, but...yeah. I still think it's a conspiracy. Anyway, so sorry about the wait, but I somewhat made up for it by revamping my first two fanfics. No huge changes, but browse through them, and you should find several new little tidbits here and there (sort of like a director's cut, except it's an author's cut). Just think of it like a treasure hunt.

After reading another fanfic with a similar strategy, Hector has 'suggested' that he be allowed to respond to reviews, rather than me doing it myself, so...

**Ani Sparrow:** _Firstly, lass, I must say I find ye choice of name rather...unsatisfactory. Why anyone would willingly be associated that man is beyond me. That bein' said, I myself have wondered why Koehler and Twigg did not find their encounter with Sparrow worth mentioning beforehand. The only logical explanation I can produce is that they're idiots. Pirateoftherings thanks ye kindly for the compliment, though she hardly deserves the credit, seein' as it was I who said it. She also mentioned that perhaps ye should note that any sentence in italics is a thought o' mine. As for the lack of said thoughts, I'm afraid most of what went through my mind at Sparrow's reappearance would not be fitting for this story's rating._

**Xo900oX**: _An even more interesting name than above, though far more pleasing. Aye, unfortunately, I do remember Turner's treachery, and how he sent off that piece to his son. More to be said on that at a later date._

**Sarah**: _Finally an individual with a normal name! I'm glad ye find this interestin'. Personally, I find it to be a rather tragic tale, but perhaps that's just my perspective. Of course, I wouldn't be too trustin' of the perspective of anyone who could find it within herself to actually like Bootstrap Bill Turner. My contempt for that man is second only to that which I have for Sparrow._

**RespectTheSporks: **_No comment on the name (chiefly because I haven't the faintest idea what a 'spork' is, nor why it should be respected). However, pirateoftherings asks that I express her great joy at your review. She says that she is quite happy you don't hate her for killing Jack (though personally I don't see why you would; I myself found it to be her best work yet). Keep reviewing._

* * *

Ch. 6

As soon as they had set sail, Barbossa led Jack to his cabin. He at first pretended not to notice how Jack touched every detail of the woodwork they passed, as if reacquainting himself with an old friend. However, when the idiot spent almost five minutes caressing one of the handrails, his patience wore out. "C'mon," he muttered, grabbing the man roughly by the sleeve and dragging him toward the cabin.

Once inside his cabin, Barbossa sat down behind the table, while Jack continued walking around the room and picking up articles he had no business touching. "Enough stalling, Sparrow," he finally said, standing up and grabbing an astrolabe out of Jack's hands. "I believe ye have somethin' to tell me."

Jack looked at him blankly and picked up a small book to replace the astrolabe. "What?" he asked, flipping through the pages without actually reading.

"The answer to my question," Barbossa said impatiently. "Ye didn't answer my question."

"Oh," Jack replied absently, but still didn't answer.

It was all Barbossa could do to keep from strangling him then and there. "Blast it, Sparrow, I don't have time for this! Answer me right now, or so help me, I'll kill ye!"

"Yes."

"…Yes?"

"Yes," Jack said, setting the book on a shelf. "The answer to your question is 'yes'."

Barbossa sighed and sat back down to keep himself from lunging at the man. "It wasn't a 'yes' or 'no' question," he said, struggling to keep his voice even.

"Sure it was," Jack argued. "You asked if I knew whose blood ye need, and my answer is yes, I do happen to know whose blood ye need. Whether I feel inclined to _share_ that little tidbit of information is a completely different matter, however."

Barbossa placed a hand on his pistol. "I'm tempted to kill ye now an' get it over with."

"But you won't," Jack pointed out smugly. "I'm the only one with the information ye need…I must say, I'm disappointed, Barbossa," he remarked, changing the subject suddenly. "I expected you to take better care of my ship."

"It's not your ship."

"The very matter we need to rectify," Jack replied, resuming his strolling. "Let's face it, Barbossa: we both have something the other wants."

"That's the terms you're negotiatin' for?" Barbossa asked. "You get the _Pearl_?"

"That's my terms, and no negotiating."

Barbossa contemplated his options. "Yer hardly in a position to make demands, Jack," he commented.

"Oh, I think I am," Jack argued. "…You and I both know you want this curse lifted as soon as possible."

"I'm not desperate," Barbossa lied.

"But still, it would be nice to be able to feel again, wouldn't it, Hector? To stand on deck and feel the sea breeze on your face? To feel the smoothness of wine going down your throat…"

"Alright," Barbossa snarled, cutting the man off. "…Name ye terms, Sparrow."

Jack just shrugged. "I already did. All I want is the _Pearl_, Barbossa. In exchange, I give you the name of Bootstrap's child. After that, you'll be dropped off at a port of your choice, free to continue the search as you please."

"So you expect to leave me standin' on some beach with nothin' but a name and your word it's the one I need and watch you sail away in my ship?"

"No," Jack scoffed, asthough the mere thought was absurd. "I expect to leave you standing on some beach with absolutely no name at all, watching me sail away in _my_ ship, and I'll shout the name back to you…Savvy?"

"But that still leaves us with the problem of me standin' on some beach with naught but a name and your word it's the one I need."

Jack began carefully selecting an apple from the bowl on the table. "Of the two of us, I'm the only one that hasn't committed mutiny. Therefore, my word's the one we'll be trusting. Although," he added, sitting down and propping his feet on the table, "I suppose I should be thanking you because in fact, if you hadn't betrayed me and left me to die, I'd have an equal share in that curse, same as you." He took a large bite out of the apple. "Funny ol' world, innit?" Barbossa just shot him an insincere smirk and looked away.

"Captain," Bo'sun said , coming into the cabin. "We're comin' up on the _Interceptor_." Grateful for the interruption, Barbossa stood up and followed the man out, giving Jack a look that clearly said, _We're not finished here_.

---

Hurrying up the steps to the helm, Barbossa pulled out his spyglass and began studying their prey. He had no sooner focused on the small ship, though, than Jack Sparrow's face appeared through the glass. "I'm having a though, here, Barbossa," he said, gesticulating widely. _That's a first…_ "What say we run up a flag of truce, I scurry over to the _Interceptor_, and I negotiate the return of your medallion, aye? What say you to that?"

Barbossa sneered. _He's up to something_. "Now you see, Jack, that's exactly the attitude that lost ye the _Pearl_…People are easy to search when they're dead!" He snapped the spyglass shut and turned to Bo'sun. "Lock 'im in the brig." As Jack was grabbed firmly by the shoulder and led away, Barbossa grabbed the half-eaten apple out of his hand. Frustrated, he suddenly hurled it through one of the many holes in the sail.

Raising his spyglass, Barbossa studied the small ship again. Apparently they had been spotted, for men were now scurrying around deck, dumping cargo in a desperate attempt to lighten the ship. Spotting the nearby shoals off to starboard, Barbossa guessed their strategy. "Haul out the main brace! Make ready the guns!" he ordered. Turning to Bo'sun, he added, "And run out the sweeps." _They won't get away that easily._

---

Her long oars stroking powerfully through the choppy water, the _Black Pearl_ began closing in on the tiny _Interceptor_. By the panic on deck, Barbossa inferred that their opponents had given up on escaping. Suddenly, they dropped their starboard anchor, and the small ship began to pivot back around. _Are they daft?_ "They're clubhaulin'!" he shouted to the crew. "Hard to port! Rack the starboard oars!"

"Hard to port!" Bo'sun repeated loudly. The helmsmen put their full weight into the wheel, bringing the _Black Pearl_ side-to-side with the _Interceptor_. Men from both ships shouted at each other fiercely, brandishing weapons as well as verbal threats.

"Fire!" he cried.

Canons roared, ripping holes in the hulls of both ships. Barbossa pulled out his pistol and fired several shots across the gap. Suddenly, he felt something sharp pierce his left arm. Looking down, he realized it was a silver kitchen knife. _Have they completely lost it?_ he wondered, extracting the knife and tossing it aside. If Sparrow ever deserved a crew, it was this sorry lot. "Pintel!" he shouted to one of the men, who was hurrying below deck with more ammunition. "We need that mast taken out! Give 'em a chain shot!" The pirate grinned evilly in response and disappeared down the steps."Raise yer colors, ya bloomin' cockroaches!" he cried across the gap to their opponents. "Hands! Grapnels at the ready! Prepare to board!" One of the canons exploded, striking the _Interceptor_'s mainmast near the base. As everyone scurried to avoid the falling mast, Barbossa simply walked forward, stopping just in front of where the main royal yard struck the deck. "Pistols and cutlasses, men! Koehler and Twigg to the powder magazine! And the rest of you, bring me that medallion!" The monkey sprang off his shoulder and used the fallen mast as a bridge to cross the gap.

Out of the corner of his eye, Barbossa saw Jack stagger on deck and use a rope to swing over to the other ship. _How did he-? Never mind, I'll deal with him later,_ he thought, casually taking out one of the men with his sword. Did these morons really think they could win? They were vastly outnumbered, and Barbossa's men couldn't die. It was only a matter of time until the battle was won. As though confirming his speculations, the monkey suddenly clambered back across the mast, followed closely by Jack. Barely avoiding Jack's grasp, it hopped up onto Barbossa's shoulder and handed him the medallion.

Barbossa grinned dryly. "Why thank ye, Jack," he said.

"You're welcome," Jack replied sarcastically.

"Oh, not you," Barbossa clarified. "We named the monkey 'Jack'." It grinned helpfully in response to its name. "Gents, our hope is restored!" he shouted, raising the medallion in the air. The men cheered loudly and began rounding up the _Interceptor_'s crew and clearing off the deck. Koehler and Twigg hurried across the gap and nodded to Barbossa, who signaled for the _Black Pearl_ to be moved away from the wreckage.

Rubbing over the medallion with his thumb, Barbossa waited. "If any o' you so much as _thinks_ the word 'parley', I'll have yer guts for garters," he heard Pintel threaten the prisoners. Smirking, Barbossa watched as the _Interceptor_ went up in a fiery explosion.

Behind him, Elizabeth suddenly freed herself from the ropes. "You've got to stop it!" she shrieked, throwing herself at him. "Stop it!"

Grinning, Barbossa caught her firmly by the wrists. "Welcome back, Miss! Ye took advantage of our hospitality last time…It holds fair now you return the favor!" The girl screamed as she was pushed into the eager crew.

"Barbossa!" someone shouted. Barbossa whipped around to see a young man standing on the handrail, dripping wet. Hopping down, the new arrival picked up Jack's pistol and leveled it at Barbossa. "She goes free."

"What's in yer head, boy?" he asked, stepping forward.

The young man didn't flinch. "She goes free."

"You've only got one shot, and we can't die," Barbossa pointed out.

Behind him, he heard Jack whisper, "Don't do anything stupid…"

_A friend of his, perhaps?_

"You can't," the boy said, climbing back up and pointing the gun at his own throat. "I can."

_Yep, definitely a friend of Jack's._

"…Like that."

For once, Barbossa was truly confused. "Who are you?" he finally asked. The boy looked familiar, but…

"No one!" Jack said quickly, putting himself between them. "He's no one. Distant cousin of my aunt's nephew, twice removed. Lovely singing voice, though…eunuch."

"My name is Will Turner," the young man interrupted. "My father was Bootstrap Bill Turner. His blood runs in my veins." Barbossa glared down at Jack, who hung his head despondently and walked away.

"He's the spittin' image of ol' Bootstrap Bill, come back to 'aunt us!" Ragetti cried.

"On my word, do as I say, or I'll pull this trigger and be lost to Davey Jones' Locker."

Barbossa studied the young man. He certainly _looked_ the part. "Name ye terms, Mr. Turner," he conceded.

"Elizabeth goes free!"

_Definitely Bootstrap's son. _"Yes, we know that one. Anythin' else?"

"…And the crew," Turner added, blatantly ignoring Jack's waving. "The crew are not to be harmed."

Barbossa grinned, immediately taking note of what the young man _didn't_ say. "Agreed."

* * *

_Disclaimer: 99 percent of this is mine or Disney's (with my added perspective), but there is one little part that I borrowed from the very first POTC script. The lines  
"…I must say, I'm disappointed, Barbossa. I expected you to take better care of my ship."  
"It's not your ship."  
"The very matter we need to rectify."  
were taken directly from the original script (though I added my own actions and such to make it fit). Just thought I'd mention that so I don't get sued._


	7. Almost Over

**A/N**: Another long chapter, and only one more to go! Hopefully it won't take much more than a week to get up, but my schedule's kinda crazy right now, so I make no promises...Please review!

**Ani Sparrow:** _Apology accepted, lass. Pirateoftherings thanks ye for the kind compliment. I'm glad _someone_ enjoyed what I had to endure with Sparrow in that cabin...I swear that man's an idiot. As to my thoughts upon young Turner's arrival, what else is to be expected? The lad's exactly like 'is father: brave, single-minded, but ultimately stupid. I almost felt guilty (but fortunately caught myself before such an emotion could fully develop) outwitting the clueless boy_.

**Sarah: **_Again, pirateoftherings thanks ye. She's expressed recent displeasure at the lack of reviews this story has been receiving and is glad to see that at least a few people still faithfully review (even if they must be reminded). Concerning your amusement with my thoughts about Turner: see above._

* * *

Ch. 7

Having suffered minor damages from the battle, it took them almost an hour to reach the island Barbossa had in mind. "Bring Miss Elizabeth forward," he called to the crew.

The men laughed cruelly and pushed her forward onto the narrow plank. "Go on, poppet!" "Go!" "Walk the plank!" they all taunted, using their weapons to force her further out. Gathering up her skirts, Elizabeth looked hesitantly over the edge.

"Barbossa, you lying bastard!" Turner shouted as he struggled against his captors. "You swore she'd go free!"

"Don't dare impugn me honor, boy," Barbossa snapped. "I agreed she'd go free, but it was _you_ who failed to specify when or where." The pirates laughed and forced a gag into the young man's mouth. "Though it does seem a shame to lose something so fine, don't it, lads?" The crew agreed begrudgingly. "…So I'll be havin' that dress back before ye go."

Glaring at him, Elizabeth took off the dress -much to the delight of the crew- and tossed it to him. "Goes with your black heart."

Barbossa smirked in response. He knew he had a reputation of being heartless, and he liked it. "Ooh, it's still warm," he teased, throwing it to one of the men.

"Off you go!" Pintel taunted. "Go on!" The girl exchanged a last look of longing with Turner.

"Too long!" Bo'sun shouted, stomping on the plank. It shook violently and threw the young woman into the water below.

Jack stood there with the rest of the crew and laughed along with them…until they pushed him forward and he realized their intention. "I'd really rather hoped we were past all this," he said, smiling nervously.

Barbossa just grinned and put an arm around Jack's shoulder. "Jack…Jack…" he said condescendingly. "Did ye not notice? That be the same little island we made we gov'ner of on our last little trip."

Jack turned briefly to look. "I did notice."

""Maybe you'll be able to conjure up another miraculous escape…but I doubt it," Barbossa sneered, drawing his sword. "Now, off ye go."

Jack started to comply, but stopped suddenly as he seemed to remember something. "Last time, you gave me a pistol with a single shot."

"By the powers, yer right!" Barbossa said. "Where be Jack's pistol? Bring it forward!"

"…Seeing as there's two of us," Jack continued, testing his luck, "a gentleman would give us a _pair_ of pistols."

"It'll be one pistol, as before, and you can be the gentleman, shoot the lady, and starve to death yeself," Barbossa replied, throwing Jack's belongings over the side. Shooting him one last look of pure loathing, Jack dove off the plank to retrieve them.

As soon as he was sure that both of them were swimming toward the island, Barbossa gave the order to make for Isla de Muerta. "Lock our esteemed guests in the brig," he told Bo'sun. "An' give young Mr. Turner a cell of his own. I'm not takin' any chances this time."

----------

"I won't ask ye again, Turner," Barbossa hissed evenly. "How do we undo the curse? I know Sparrow told ye."

Bootstrap set his jaw stubbornly. "I don't have to tell ye anything," he replied.

Barbossa raised a hand to strike the man, but changed his mind. "Yer right; ye don't have_ to," he said, shrugging casually. "…T'would make things easier on yer family, though." _

"What do you mean?" Bootstrap asked warily.

"Y'know, s'not too difficult to procure information 'bout certain individuals," Barbossa continued. "Like, say, where they live? Comes in handy should you need to suddenly eliminate someone…"

Bootstrap's hand drifted to his sword. "Stay away from my family, Barbossa," he warned, his dark eyes flashing like embers.

"Then tell me how to lift the curse."

The man hesitated. "C'mon," he muttered, heading toward Barbossa's cabin. "He kept the information in here."

---

Searching the cabinets, Bootstrap finally produced a small wooden chest. He opened it up and carefully extracted an old Mayan codex written on pieces of bark. Sighing, he spread them out on the table. "When the Spanish explorer Hernando Cortes was still cutting a great bloody swath through the New World, there were frequent conflicts with the native Aztecs. One of the high priests promised Cortes all the gold they had, under one condition: the Aztecs' lives be spared. Cortes, being Cortes, agreed…only to kill them anyway once the gold had been obtained, despite the fact that he had given his word that he wouldn't." He paused to stare pointedly at the other man.

Barbossa ignored the look. "Would've made a great pirate, that one," he commented mildly. "Keep going."

Muttering something inaudible under his breath, Bootstrap continued. "So the priest, with his dying breath, called on the power of his people, and put on the gold a curse. Within a day of leaving port for Spain, on the treasure ship carrying the gold…something went wrong. The ship ran aground, and every man aboard died, save one. He survived long enough to hide the gold ashore. Over time, the dark magic of the curse seeped out, eventually surrounding the island in a ghostly shroud…An island of death."

"Isla de Muerta…" Barbossa whispered.

Bootstrap nodded. "Aye, the very same…Now the island cannot be found, save by those who know where it is. And even if one should find it, he is hardly to be considered fortunate, for a terrible curse still lies on that gold. Any mortal that takes so much as a single piece shall suffer for eternity, consumed by his own greed."

"It doesn't say anything about liftin'_ the curse?" Barbossa asked. _

Bootstrap held up a finger and carefully examined the codex. "Ah, here it is…" he muttered. "In English, it translates to, 'As by greed ye be compelled, by greed ye be consumed. No longer among the living, not yet among the dead. Doomed to wander; ever wanting, never having. A secret only moonlight can tell. Begun by blood…'"

"…What?" Barbossa asked when the man didn't continue. "What does it say?"

"It doesn't," Bootstrap replied shortly, gathering up the pieces of bark and putting them back in the chest. "It stops there."

Barbossa raised a dubious eyebrow. "That's it? How do we end it, then?"

Bootstrap hesitated. "You return all the pieces."

"And that's all?"

"…Yes," the man said, nodding and swallowing hard. "That's all."

Barbossa grinned in satisfaction and turned to Bo'sun, who had been waiting just outside the cabin. "Grab him."

"What?" Bootstrap exclaimed in protest as he was grabbed by the arms and dragged out onto the deck. "Barbossa, you gave me your word!"

"No, I don't recall saying anythin' about your well-being when we made our little deal…Bind his hands."

As the rope was tied tightly around his wrists, Bootstrap spat in Barbossa's face. "I should never have trusted you," he said angrily.

"No, probably not," Barbossa agreed. "You were a great asset to this crew, Bill…but, like Jack, you've outlived yer usefulness." He signaled for the man to be forced onto the plank.

"What do ye accomplish by this?" Bootstrap asked, looking over the edge. "I can't die, so it does little good to send me off the plank."

Barbossa pretended to contemplate. "Yer absolutely right," he finally said. He motioned to Bo'sun, who pushed forward one of the cannons. "I can't kill ye, but I can do far worse…Strap 'im to the cannon!"

Bootstrap struggled violently against the men, but they managed to tie him to the heavy cannon. If looks could kill, Barbossa would have been a dead man. "You'll pay for this more than you know, Barbossa," the man swore fiercely. "Only I know where the last piece is."

Barbossa smiled coldly. "We'll find it eventually, Bill," he said, leaning over the man. "Oh, and don't worry 'bout yer lil' family back home, mate. I'll be sure to tell 'em how brave their husband an' daddy was…'fore I kill 'em!" With that, he signaled for Bo'sun to shove the cannon over the side. Looking over the rail in satisfaction, Barbossa watched as William Turner disappeared into the inky black depths of the sea, ne'er to be seen again…

----------

Barbossa opened his eyes and slowly stood up. Glancing out the window, he saw that they'd finally reached Isla de Muerta. He drew a deep breath of anticipation. Now it was _really_ going to be over. Something that almost resembled emotion crossed his face as he thought of what it meant, only to be promptly erased and replaced with a look of steely determination. Picking an apple from the bowl on his desk and placing it in his pocket, Barbossa paused as a silver tray on the counter caught his reflection. A man, heartless and hardened by years of mistrust and suffering, glared back at him with weary eyes. This was the face that so many had learned to fear…the face that had been the last sight of many an honest man before he met his untimely demise. Captain Hector Barbossa. _No_, he corrected himself. _Hector's been dead for years._ Turning abruptly away from the reflection, Barbossa strapped on his weapons and strode out of the cabin. _Time to go._

----------

Followed by Bo'sun and Koehler, Barbossa headed for the brig. As he neared the doorway, he overheard Pintel and Ragetti talking to the prisoners. Holding up a hand to stop the men from entering, he muttered, "I want to hear this."

"…As you can imagine, that didn' sit too well wit' the captain," he heard Pintel say.

"Didn't sit too well wit' the cap'n a'tall," Ragetti agreed. "Tell 'im what Barbossa did."

"I'm tellin' the story!…So, what the cap'n did… 'e strapped a cannon t' Bootstrap's bootstraps-"

"Bootstrap's bootstraps…"

"-an' the last we saw of ol' Bill Turner, 'e was sinkin' to the crushin' black oblivion of Davey Jones' Locker…'Course, it was only after that we learned we needed 'is blood to lift the curse."

"Now tha's what ye call ironic." The two men laughed until they realized Barbossa had strode into the room.

Scowling, he threw the keys at Ragetti. "Bring 'im."

* * *

_Disclaimer: Again, borrowed a bit from the original script (there's some really brilliant stuff in there). Everything Bootstrap reads off of the Aztec codex -except for the description of the curse (added by yours truly)- is from the first draft of Barbossa's speech during the dinner with Elizabeth (though minorly altered in wording here and there). In the original script, he pulls it out and begins reading it to her to explain the curse. I just changed the setting to Bootstrap telling Barbossa._


	8. I Feel

A/N: Okay, so I have no excuse for the delay on this chapter other than my own lack of motivation to write. Sometimes I just have those blah spells where I can't make myself write...anyway, pretty long chapter to finish it all up. Thanks to those few who actually read this (and the even fewer that actually reviewed consistently). Hector's not gonna bother with replying to reviews this time because there wasn't much to reply to, but he sends his thanks to the two faithful reviewers. I still have quite a few more ideas stored in my head for more fanfics (two full stories, as well as a few one-shots and drabbles), but I'm going to be taking a 40-day sabatical from writing for Lent (no, I'm not Catholic, but I still like to observe Lent). After that, I'm not sure how quickly I'll start posting stuff again. It mostly just depends on how busy I am and how creative I'm feeling. Please keep checking, though, because I will eventually post something. Thanks for reading!  
--pirateoftherings

* * *

Ch. 8

Barbossa stood once more at the bow of the small rowboat as they sailed toward the cave opening. The men were far less talkative this time, and the only noise that could be heard was the soft splash each time the oars hit the water.

"You killed William Turner?" a quiet voice asked behind him, breaking the silence.

Barbossa turned around to see the young man staring darkly at him. He nodded without remorse. "I did," he replied simply.

Turner clenched and unclenched his jaw, his dark eyes filled with anger. "…Why?" he asked tightly.

"Yer father died for the same reason any human being dies," Barbossa replied after contemplating. "He outlived his usefulness."

----------

Tossing the apple up and down, Barbossa navigated the twisting tunnels of Isla de Muerta. He made his way over to the chest and climbed up the slope, leaving Koehler and Twigg to force the young man up after him. As Mr. Turner was held over the chest, Barbossa picked up the knife and got the crew's attention. Anxious to get it over with, he didn't waste his time with fancy speeches. "Begun by blood," he said over the crew's chanting. "By blood, un-" The chanting slowly came to a halt, and Barbossa looked up to see none other than Jack Sparrow maneuvering his way through the crowd.

"Jack!" the young man exclaimed.

"S'not possible," Barbossa muttered in shock.

"Not _probable_," Jack corrected.

"Where's Elizabeth?" Turner asked, struggling to stand upright.

Jack hesitated. "She's safe, just like I promised, she's all set to marry Norrington, just like _she_ promised, and you get to die for her, just like _you_ promised. So we're all men of our word, really…except for Elizabeth, who is, in fact, a woman."

_I don't have time for this…_"Shut up!" Barbossa snarled. "You're next!" Motioning for the men to hold Turner over the chest again, he bent to slice the young man's throat.

"You don't want to be doing that, mate," Jack interrupted quietly.

Barbossa gave him a sidelong glance. "No, I really think I do."

"Your funeral," Sparrow replied simply, shrugging and falling silent.

Rolling his eyes, Barbossa turned to face the man. "_Why_ don't I want to be doin' it?"

"Well, because-" Jack paused to slap Bo-sun's hand off of his shoulder and began climbing up to where they stood. "-because the _HMS Dauntless_, pride of the Royal Navy, is floating just offshore, waiting for you."

A nervous murmur spread through the crew, and Barbossa glared at Jack. "You led them here!"

"That's a safe assumption," Jack replied. "You and me are the only ones with the bearings to this lovely lil' island, and seein' as _you_ probably didn't tell them, it's fairly reasonable to infer that I did. However, I got a bit of a predicament on me hands…See, they don't like me much, and I suspect that the second they got you in safe custody, they'll turn around and arrest me. Maybe I'm missin' something 'ere, but that doesn't sound like too good of motivation for me to help 'em. So, I've devised a little plan that should work in both of our best interests." Barbossa started to interject, but Jack stopped him. "Just hear me out, mate. You order your men to row out to the _Dauntless_; they do what they do best. Robert's your uncle, Fannie's your aunt, there you are with two ships: the makings of your very own fleet. Of course, you'll take the grandest as your flagship, and who's to argue? But what of the _Pearl_?…Name me captain; I'll sail under your colors and give ye ten percent of me plunder, and you get to introduce yourself as C_ommodore_ Barbossa. Savvy?"

Barbossa studied the man carefully. "An' I suppose in exchange ye want me not t' kill the whelp?" The 'whelp' shot him an angry look, then turned to stare at Jack.

"No, not at all, by all means, kill the whelp," Jack said hastily. "Just…not yet. Wait to lift the curse until the opportune moment…For instance-" He paused to grab a handful of coins out of the chest. "-after you're killed Norrington's men. Every…last…one," he said, dropping the coins back in with each word. Barbossa contemplated the offer.

"You've been planning this from the beginning," the young man accused angrily, glaring at Jack. "Ever since you learned my name."

Jack glanced briefly over at him. "Yeah."

"I want fifty percent of ye plunder," Barbossa interrupted, testing Jack's sincerity.

"Fifteen!" the pirate argued with a frown.

"Forty."

"Twenty-five!" Jack insisted. "…And I'll buy you the hat." Barbossa glanced up. His own was getting into a sorry state… "A really big one…Commodore."

Barbossa smirked and extended his hand. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad having the man serving under him. "We have an accord."

"All hands to the boats!" Sparrow said loudly, then backed down as Barbossa glared over at him. "Apologies…You give the orders."

_We'll have to work on that later. _"Gents…take a walk," Barbossa said. The men laughed and started to leave the cave.

Jack looked over at him in confusion. "Not to the boats?"

Barbossa glanced sideways at him. "One of the advantages, bein' mostly dead."

----------

Barbossa ordered one of the men to keep a close eye on Turner and sat down casually on the slope while they waited. Jack was busy examining various articles of treasure, picking one up to look at it, then tossing it aside and appraising another. Intrigued, Barbossa studied the lean pirate. It was still beyond him why the man saw any benefit in helping them. Was he really that obsessed with getting his ship back?

"I must admit, Jack, I thought I had ye figured," he said, breaking the silence. "But it turns out yer a hard man to predict."

Jack looked up from his treasure hunting and tossed aside the statue he'd been studying. "Me, I'm dishonest" he replied casually, walking over toward one of the pirates, who was busy trying to skip rocks on the water. "And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly. It's the honest ones you want to watch out for because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly…stupid." Suddenly stealing the distracted pirate's sword, he kicked the man into the water and tossed the sword to Will. The young man miraculously caught it behind his back, cut his bonds, and turned to engage the pirates.

Barbossa sneered, drawing his sword and charging at Jack. _You'll need more than yer uncanny luck this time, Sparrow..._

He chose to take the defensive for the time being and let Jack attack first, easily deflecting the man's violent swings. Right now, Jack's moves seemed out of sheer aggression, showing little thought or strategy beyond the raw desire to see his opponent dead. _This isn't like him_, Barbossa noted as be blocked another slash. _He's up to something_. He suddenly unleashed a fury of blows that forced Jack to relent slightly until they were facing opposite directions, then turned and ran up the slick slope with his opponent in close pursuit. Jack slashed upwards, smirking slightly as the feather was cleanly removed from Barbossa's hat. Snarling, Barbossa finally took the aggressive and chased after Jack.

Thrust.

Parry.

Feint.

Dodge.

The blades clashed again and again, the rhythm becoming more and more furious. Barbossa spun around and leaned closer as their swords pressed against each other. "Yer off the edge of the map, mate," he sneered. "Here there be monsters." He forced the blade away from him and paused momentarily in satisfaction as Jack fled. _That's right, Jack, run,_ he thought fiercely, pressing his opponent further up the slope.

They fought on, neither willing to fully exert himself for fear of tiring prematurely. Up the slope they went. Dodging one of Barbossa's swings, Jack fell backwards but managed to keep blocking the blows as he struggled to get up. Barbossa lashed out with one foot, striking Jack squarely in the jaw and sending him back to the ground. He tossed aside his sword and shook his head wearily. "Ye can't beat me, Jack."

Jack jumped to his feet and stabbed his sword through Barbossa's midsection. Sighing, Barbossa pulled it out and used it instead to stab Jack. The pirate's eyes widened in shock, and Barbossa smiled triumphantly. Then Sparrow stumbled backwards into a shaft of moonlight, revealing himself to be an undead skeleton. Barbossa frowned in confusion. _How?_

The skeletal Jack stood there, slowly examining his new appearance. "That's interesting," he commented. Twirling an Aztec coin in one hand, he looked over and grinned. "I couldn't resist, mate."

Sneering, Barbossa grabbed his sword off the ground and flung a handful of coins at Jack. The fight was back on. They passed in and out of the shafts of moonlight as they fought up the slope. Jack swung his fist and sent Barbossa tumbling back down. Barbossa got to his feet just in time to block another series of blows. Knocking Jack to the ground, he diverted his attention just long enough to see two of his men stab each other in an attempt to get Turner. _Imbeciles…_ Jack got up and slammed Barbossa into the cave wall, then ran off down the slope. Whirling around, Barbossa caught up with him and dealt several furious blows. No longer concerned with tiring or revealing secrets, the two men completely lost themselves to the rhythm of the fight. Barbossa avoided one of Jack's haphazard swings and fell back against a low stone formation.

"So what now, Jack Sparrow?" he asked, breathing heavily. "Are we to be two immortals locked in epic battle 'til Judgment Day, and trumpets sound? Hmm?"

Jack shrugged. "Or you could surrender."

He swung at Barbossa, who got out of the way just in time. As Barbossa recovered his footing, Jack jumped up onto the rock, then back down to avoid Barbossa's sword. They exchanged a series of lightning-fast blows before Barbossa punched Jack in the jaw. It was no longer simple a match between two skilled swordsmen, but a furiously intense battle to the death between two old foes settling a ten-year-old score. Laughing, Barbossa chased after Jack. He hadn't enjoyed himself this much in years.

As they continued to slash at each other, an explosion went off at the other side of the cave. Both men turned just long enough to make sure nothing significant had transpired, then resumed their fighting. Fatigue was slowly beginning to affect their combat, but they kept going just as intently. Jack pushed Barbossa away and swiped at his back, causing him to wince in pain. Fueled by rage, Barbossa retaliated.

Lunge.

Reverse.

Parry.

Slash.

They worked their way around the water's edge and out onto a small peninsula of rocks. Jack was now fighting more intensely than Barbossa had ever seen him before, as though each blow might be his last. Another explosion went off behind them, and this time Barbossa turned to see a shower of treasure, articles of clothing, and severed limbs raining down. _Oh well. They were expendable_, he thought offhandedly. Jack swung his sword again, batting away Barbossa's and knocking him down. Barbossa looked up just in time to see Jack toss his bloodied coin up the slope. Pulling out his pistol, he leveled it at the approaching girl.

A single shot rang out…but it wasn't his. Barbossa turned sharply to face Jack. The pirate's expression was grim, and in his hand was a smoking pistol.

"Ten years ye carry that pistol, and now ye waste yer shot."

"…He didn't waste it," Turner said from behind them. Barbossa look from his right hand, which held the knife, to his left, which was clenched into a fist. Slowly, the boy opened his hand and let the bloodied coins drop into the chest.

Shocked, Barbossa turned back to Jack and visually calculated the path of the bullet…his chest. Thrusting open his vest, Barbossa saw the blood start to flow from the wound and trickle down his white shirt. As he stood there in disbelief, a sudden realization struck him. "I _feel_…" he muttered in amazement. He could actually _feel_! The cool, moist air of the cave, the smooth texture of his silken vest…the burning of the hole in his chest. His vision began to blur and darken as another more imminent realization came. "…Cold." His legs gave way under him, and he fell backwards against the slope.

Captain Hector Barbossa was dead.

* * *


End file.
